Night
by Hat as a Madder
Summary: Seeing no one, she said softly, in that tone reserved for very late nights, "Who's there?" A startled intake of breath later, a deep baritone sound replied. "Just me," he said, expecting her to know his voice. She did.


**Night**

_I am indeed JK Rowling. I have decided to adopt the writing style of a fourteen-year-old girl and, in fact, take over her account on FFNet. Carry on._

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Lily's pulse raced in her chest. Her hair was flying behind her, already free of its former constricting bun. The ruby tendrils were in her face, and she brushed them aside furiously as she continued to flee. The sound of her pounding footsteps was an out-of-place noise in the otherwise empty corridor.

She didn't know why she was flying rather than fighting, nor did she know what it was she was running from. All she knew was that her instincts bade her continue, ever faster, ever more.

The exertion was taking a toll on her body, although without the typical familiar comfort of rushing blood and warmth. Rather, Lily was cold. No, Lily was freezing. At once as she ran, she was chafing her hands against her arms, rubbing them fruitlessly. She shivered and blinked furiously, trying to rid herself of the troublesome tears that were clouding the vision she needed to be as sharp as possible.

She felt her back pocket—then the front, the inside of her robes, a wild check behind the ear—for her wand. It wasn't there. Of course it wasn't there, in this horrid situation she found herself unable to escape.

A shadow appeared in her peripheral, just around the corner she'd turned. Blindly, wildly, she felt along the wall for some passage, some relief. She tried to cry out in terror but found her voice gone as the shape approached, cloaked in shadow even when right in front of her. It reached for her, and Lily thrashed madly, trying to get away.

Its left gripping a wand, the right hand of the figure was centimeters away from the front of her robes, ready to grab her should she somehow find a way to get away while pinned against a wall. He—it?—raised the wand, pointing it at the center of her heaving chest.

Lily inhaled, closed her eyes, pictured her favorite face as a last thought, and—

Found herself assaulted with the smell of an almost nauseating mixture of multiple perfumes, sneaked butterbeer, and flowers that was her dormitory. Her eyes were still closed, and she was breathing heavily, but the flood of relief that crashed over her was huge, swift, and almost as frightening as the nightmare itself.

It could've happened. It had been so real, so possible, so probable. She knew the relief wasn't because the dream was over. It was because the event that was so likely hadn't yet occurred. It was but her last year at school, and she was already imagining her funeral.

Her thoughts, as they always did after a nightmare like this, were in a whirl. The mixture of regrets, triumphs, and questions swirled in her mind as usual, although it seemed almost stronger now; as if the previous jumbles had just been precursors to this big revelatory deliberation.

Lily drew back the curtains quietly, eying her dorm-mates fondly. If they found her awake and thinking, they would of course wish to know what was wrong. Since this was a question Lily couldn't even supply an answer to herself, she slid out of her bed and onto the chilled-from-an-open-March-window floor.

She pulled her tank top down and smoothed the pants she'd stolen from Marlene. They had been capris on the taller woman, but Lily swam in them just the way she liked. Her feet were bare, as was her face, and her hair was in a messy plait at the nape of her neck. But it was solitude she sought, for reasons unknown, and therefore she proceeded down the stairs of her dormitory, habitually grabbing her wand from the nightstand as she turned.

When in the common room, she was surprised to see a merrily crackling fire that contrasted immensely with the tumult of her thoughts. She knew the house elves wouldn't have left it, so she glanced about the room.

Seeing no one, she said softly, in that tone reserved for very late nights, "Who's there?"

A startled intake of breath later, a deep baritone sound replied. "Just me," he said, expecting her to know his voice. She did.

"James," she said, following the noise to the couch in front of the fire. "Hey."

"Hello, Lils," he said, sliding to the left to give her more room. She took a seat next to him. "Another nightmare?"

She nodded. The necessary truce the pair had in late September had evolved into a close camaraderie, and she found herself confiding things in James that she didn't even tell Alice straightaway. Except, of course, her feelings on certain matters, but that was for other purposes. She kept those to herself and herself only.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Not particularly," she said. "Why're you down here, though? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," James echoed, the ghost of a smile creeping onto both of their faces. The mood was still a bit too somber for an open grin.

"Brooding doesn't help things," she chastised. He raised an eyebrow, and Lily blushed, realizing she'd been doing just that.

"Alright, so you were being attacked again," said James, his arm finding its way around her shoulders. She leaned into him, nodding once more, and let out a sigh.

"It's not even being afraid for myself, in those last moments," she said thoughtfully into his chest, her voice muffled but still distinguishable. "More… worried, I suppose, about all the people I was leaving behind." And regretting the waste of her time by not telling a certain someone how she felt, but he needn't know that—he didn't feel the same way, and she wouldn't strain their relationship.

"Lily," he said, not sure how to express what he was feeling, but she heard the comforting in his tone and nuzzled closer, fully intending to write off the action, should there be a comment made, as a result of sleepiness.

"So," she said, reluctantly—not giving the appearance of reluctance, of course, but feeling it—sitting up straighter, though his arm remained around her. "Why were you down here?"

"No reason," he said simply. She narrowed her eyes; so he continued, "Couldn't sleep."

"Obviously, James," she sighed. "Why?"

"Thinking of things," he said vaguely. Lily sighed in exasperation.

"You can tell me," she said, looking up at him. She saw what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"You," murmured James unwillingly.

"Me," returned Lily, questioningly.

"I was thinking of you," he elaborated, sighing softly. A clock chimed somewhere in the distance. Lily pondered the cliché for only a moment, her mind in a whir.

"What…what about me, James?" she asked, not allowing herself to hope like a love-struck fool. She looked away from him, into the fire.

He mumbled something, and then said louder, "Never mind."

She looked sharply up at him. "What did you say, James?"

"Stop, I'm not doing this," he said quietly, seeming to remember himself. "I haven't all year, and I'm finally your friend. So stop."

"James, please, what did you say?" pleaded Lily.

"Why, Lily? You know what I'm going to say. It'll ruin things," replied James firmly. Lily did indeed believe she knew what he was to say, but felt very differently as to the consequences.

"I need to hear it, James," she said, commanding but begging at the same time. He softened when he saw her watery eyes.

"I love you, okay?" he said, his expression pained. "I started out asking you out to bug you. That was fine. Then I became seriously infatuated with you—again, fine. But that infatuation, last year, led me to be your friend, this year. And now, I—I love you."

Lily opened her mouth, but James cut her off. "I know you don't feel the same way, Lily. That's okay. I'm—well, I'm not happy about it, but I could never blame you for not… And then there's this friendship, it's beautiful, and I want to keep it. I didn't mean to tell you, you just have this way of…"

"James," she interrupted. He realized he was rambling, flushed slightly, and looked at her, obviously fighting a grimace. "I love you too."

James looked almost angry. "That's not funny, Lily," he sighed. "I know, you like to joke, but could you just... Hold off for tonight? I mean, I'm all for a laugh, but you don't seem to realize that I was being completely serious, and here you are—mmph."

Lily removed her hand from his mouth after his lips stopped moving and he seemed to realize talking is best done when one's mouth is not covered by a hand.

"Stop," she ordered and, for once, he listened. "I. Love. You."

He seemed not to comprehend. She tried once more to explain.

"James, I _do_ feel the same way. I thought you'd moved on. And, I—oh, bugger it all!" she exclaimed, seeing him still blinking owlishly at her.

Already settled close to James' side, Lily moved onto his lap. This seemed to reawaken him slightly, as he stirred and—unconsciously, it looked like—placed his hands on her waist to steady her.

"Lils, what're you…?" he began, and Lily, exasperated, effectively prevented all further conversation with what he would come to describe as the "second best snog of his life," second only to the one on his wedding day, when she was finally and officially his.

As it was, they were reluctant to pull away, to the point that one of them—no saying who, as they would certainly hex the speaker into oblivion—with red hair and green eyes almost fainted.

"Hmm," said James thoughtfully after Lily had taken a short moment to clear her head.

"Hmm," Lily agreed, a hesitant smiling creeping up on her face. James' expression remained carefully indifferent, until Lily huffed and crossed her arms.

"Sorry for the lack of reaction," he said casually. "I was savoring the moment."

Lily gaped at him for a moment. Finally, James' control broke and he revealed an ear-to-ear grin. She began to giggle, and their laughter—neither knew nor would they ever know just what was so funny—echoed throughout the common room.

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**Author's Note: **That was rather crappy. The style seems too varied to me, but whatever. Tell me what you think. I'll individually respond to each reviewer on this one. (=


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